


we've not yet lost all our graces

by Clearlyamintrigued



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Rewrite, Drama, F/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-22 11:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19666153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clearlyamintrigued/pseuds/Clearlyamintrigued
Summary: She had died.  She remembers it. The pain, the fear- gasping for what had been her last breath.(A time travel fic-Rewriting season 1 with Erica Reyes.)





	1. Prologue

_Erica hated this room. Though the word ‘vault’ would be a more accurate way to describe the space._

_A room would suggest furniture, or possible comfort; Something more than the empty, walled-in-space in which she and Boyd had become far too acquainted. So yeah, Erica hated (no despised, or better yet loathed) this room._

_Any sane person would._

_She hated the uncomfortable itch beneath her skin that longed for escape, for fresh air, or even to be able to walk more than the limited fifteen steps in either direction. Though, truth be told she hadn’t done much walking lately. Right now, the blonde werewolf could hardly do more than half-lean, half-slump against one of the identical walls._

_"Someone will find us."_

_She wasn't sure if the promise was meant to reassure herself or Boyd but regardless the dark-skinned boy reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly. The gesture garnered a faint smile from the blonde. It was nice- A reminder that she was at least not alone._

_When she first uttered those words to Boyd, she had believed it._

_Sure, it was taking longer than she would have hoped, but they would. She knew they would. Derek was stubborn, and he needed a pack. He needed her and Boyd. He wouldn’t just let them disappear off to naively find another pack. Especially when he had doubted the existence of one to begin with. Or maybe it would be Scott and Stiles who somehow always found themselves at the root of every mystery in this forsaken town. They’d come stumbling in, somewhat accidentally, with some half-assed plan. It didn’t matter who or why all that mattered was that it would happen. That someone came for them. Soon._

_"We just have to hold out you and me,” she told him._

_How long has it been? Weeks? Months? It was hard to tell._

_Something about this room was ...discomforting; as if the walls themselves were slowly suffocating the wolf in them. It left both Boyd and her feeling worn and unsettled within their own skin._

_Sometimes others came to visit. Those visits were rarely pleasant, but it broke the routine of just waiting._

_The others were Alphas. A pack of Alphas._

_And the female Alpha, the one with long dark hair and nails in need of serious trimming, was Erica’s least favorite._

_"That bitch," Erica spat, a hand curled around her waist._

_She wanted nothing more than to dig her claws deep into the other woman’s throat._

_"They’re stronger than us ‘Rica. You can't take on an Alpha.” Boyd said, his large hand on her shoulder. “We have to be smarter.”_

_Yes, smarter. Wait it out. Someone would come. They just had to... wait it out._

_They couldn't feel the effect of the moon in here. Erica didn’t know how or why that was, but it certainly couldn’t end well. She frowned, deep in thought, her cheeks pressed against the cool wall. The wolves in them needed moonlight._

_She wanted to get out. Let her out. Let her out. Let-_

_"Erica?"_

_Suddenly there was something- no, someone- whose arms wrapped tight around her holding her down. All she could see through her red-tinted view of the world were walls; walls that with every breath felt like they inched closer and closer. She wanted out; out of this damn vault._

_"Erica!"_

_Colour -as dull as it was in here- returned to the world, and her golden eyes changed back to its regular human brown._

_Boyd was restraining her: why?_

_"You-” he paused, “we need to keep it together. Just a little longer."_

_She looked down to the concrete floor in front of her where bloodied scratches left their mark. Her hands curled into fists, ignoring the throbbing pain that lingered deep within her nail beds._

_"Someone will come for us. Right, Boyd?" She couldn't see his face from this angle but felt his nod._

_A stuttered breath escaped her._

_It had been months._

_No one came._

_No one was coming._

_Erica had screamed and clawed and in her worst moments cried. It changed nothing._

_"What do you think will happen to us during a lunar eclipse?"_

_Erica had heard them talking (the Alphas). She didn't know their plans, but she had heard the words ‘Lunar’ and ‘Eclipse’ more than enough to know it was important. That it was likely part of the reason Boyd and her were being kept here._

_"They last for hours, you know," Erica continued, barely meeting Boyd’s gaze, "...maybe it'll make us stronger. I hope it makes us stronger."_

_She hadn't planned to stand up but did so all the same._

_No one had come for them and maybe they never would; Either way, Erica was done waiting. The young werewolf’s eyes shifted to an eerie golden-yellow, she could feel her canines elongating, her nails transforming into claws._

_Kali -the female Alpha's- red eyes turned towards her and without wasting time Erica launched herself at the she-wolf._

_The dark-haired woman twisted her body, knowing to move before Erica could even strike. A sharply aimed kick connected Kali’s leg to Erica’s stomach and was quickly followed through by an elbow to the face. Erica tried to duck and weave and counter with her own attacks, but it wasn't long till Kali had her grasped by the neck, her legs dangling in the air._

_Erica struggled for air, clawing at the arms that held her up._

_Swinging her weight forward, somewhat clumsily, she aimed both legs to the Alpha’s pelvis. With a snarl, Kali dropped her and Erica had a second to gasp for breath before she was pierced by something sharp. Confused she looked down to the smallest dotting of crimson red and the quick withdrawal of the female Alpha’s newly painted toenails._

_A whimper, small and pained, escaped her._

_Erica rolled to her side gasping desperately for air, as dark spots clotted her vision. With every blink the black spots widened, getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow her whole._

_She wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear her name. It was hard to tell. Hard to understand anything past the sudden gripping truth: she was dying._

_A worried shadow moved towards her._

_"Boyd-”._

_She reached a hand to him, or who she hoped was him, everything was slowly being overtaken by darkness making it hard to tell what was and what wasn’t._

_Somewhere in the dark Boyd took her hand, and if she could Erica would have mustered up an echo of a smile._


	2. 1.1

Erica wakes up in the suffocating dark, panic swelling through her, and kicks blindly at the heavyweight upon her. Free, she gasps a desperate lungful of air. A cool breeze tickles her bare legs. With the heavy blankets, she’s successfully kicked off now dumped on the floor her eyes slowly adjust to the dark and she quickly recognizes where she is. 

The room she’s in feels more open than the vault and far  cozier . The warmth of nostalgia as she curls further into the too comfortable bed is overbearing. Erica breathes in deep against her white, overly large pillows trying to calm her racing heart. 

She had died. 

She remembers it; the pain, the fear, gasping for what had been her last breath. 

But, here she is. In her own bed. In her room. 

How? 

A frown crosses her face as she flips onto her back, staring unseeingly at a familiar ceiling. Part of her, the majority if she’s honest, wants to stay hidden amongst her pillows; wants to forget the vault and the last few months of imprisonment. 

_ The flash of red eyes turning towards her.  _ **__ **

Erica closes her eyes, choking down whatever emotion it is that threatens to claw its way up her throat. 

_ A hand in the darkness holding hers.  _

Boyd! 

Sitting up suddenly, she swings her legs off her bed wobbling like a new-born foal as her feet finds the floor. When she opens her eyes the world sways for a second but Erica pushes past the dizziness by putting forward one foot followed by the next. 

Boyd. She needs to know that he is okay. That he isn’t - 

Erica refuses to think the rest of that sentence. 

Her closet is her first stop. It’s emptier than she remembers, housing only a third of its usual content. Erica grabs the first jumper she sees- quickly pulling it on. Next, to go on are a pair of trainers that have seen better days, but they feel comfortable enough on her feet. Without closing the door, Erica leaves her room, keeping her steps soft and her back to the wall. 

The sound of the tv in her living room is playing what she easily recognizes as a rerun episode of NCIS. Louder than that is a familiar voice, worn and urgent. 

“Dad!” 

Erica steps forward into the living room and a pair of tired eyes turn to her. Her Dad’s lips twist into an apologetic half-smile as he pulls the phone away from his face. 

“Sorry, Hun. I didn't mean to wake you up,” he says. 

Her steps falter. There’s no worry to be read on his face. No tears or anger. No signs of a father who missed his daughter. 

“You should go back to bed. First day of school tomorrow,” he squeezes her shoulder, and nods to the direction of her room, on the way to taking his call to the study. 

The door closes firmly behind him. 

A tightly coiled knot of emotions rests at the pit of Erica's stomach from the brief interaction. It's with much effort, that she pulls her attention away from the shut door. 

She has questions that desperately needed to be answered. And for that, she needs the help of the person who usually has them. The man who had turned her: Derek Hale. 

□ 

Erica wishes that she had taken the time to tie up her hair: which is frizzy and dry in a way it hasn’t been in almost a year and whipping wildly around her face. There’s a stitch in her side, and her thighs aches from cycling (her current and only mode of transport) by the time she hops off the bike and dumps it by the side of the street. 

The place she arrives at is pitch dark and empty as Erica makes her way down. 

“Derek?” 

The underground station is far dustier than when she last saw it. Dustier than she’s ever remembered it being. 

There had been little touches that their pack had added in the last few months (chains to restrain them during the fool moon, snacks that Boyd and Isaac had not-so-secret places for, change of clothes for training sessions, sleeping bags for when they more often than not need a place to crash). But all that was missing, giving the abandoned lair an even more deserted feel than usual. Granted, the place hadn’t been all that before. But the packs touch as bare-boned as it was had made it feel almost homely. Now she felt little more than the need to sneeze with every dusty inhale. 

“Isaac?” 

There's no answer. 

□ 

Erica isn't sure how long she waits. An hour or two. Maybe more before she gives up any hope of one of the others coincidentally making their way down here. With reluctance, she heads back up to her bike, unsure of where to look to find her reclusive Alpha. 

In her experience, Derek was usually the one to find them and always for a reason. 

Picking up the discarded bicycle and rolling it down the road she's faced with the fact that she’s not ready to just quit and go back home. Ignoring her burning thighs and hopping on the bike with a new destination in mind, she cycles once more. 

The half-burned echo of a house looms tall and heady with untold secrets. Erica raps her knuckles against the door, calling for Derek frantically; there's no response. It is with barely-to-no hesitation that she goes to turn the doorknob and when that doesn’t work slams her weight, shoulder first, budging door open. 

“Derek,” Erica calls as she steps through the entrance with a wince, rolling a now sore shoulder. 

She isn't surprised when only the silence answers. 

With each step further into the empty house, she feels the hairs on the back of her neck rising. It’s hard to shake the feeling that she’s trespassing. Perhaps because she is, but in the last year or so, Erica has made her way into plenty of places she wasn't supposed to and never has she had the feeling she does now: As if she is stamping on something sacred. 

Despite having heard of the place numerous times this was the first time she's seen the inside of what was once, years passed, her Alpha's home. 

The house is still, after all these years, half-filled with burned, toppled furniture. Erica makes her way through each empty room, ignoring the prickly feeling of discomfort. She comes to stop in what was once a bedroom. It is in this room staring outside the years' unwashed window while trying to figure out where to go from here, that her eyes catch something moving quickly behind the trees. 

Her vision is not as perceptive as she’s come to expect, and in the dark, it’s hard to know exactly what it is she’s seeing. 

But, soon enough the creature steps out of the enclosed trees, allowing itself to be seen in the moonlight. Instinct screams at her to run as the hunched beast steps forward: Its eyes glowing. 

Stumbling backward from the window Erica makes her way downstairs towards the entrance and the front door she stupidly never bothered to close behind her. 

The creature hasn’t moved, instead, it looks directly at her through the opened door: Letting out a wet, impatient growl. 

Tensing her hand Erica flicks out her wrist, her fingers outstretched. 

Instead of claws, she is staring at nothing but shortly trimmed nails. She tries again and is rewarded with the same failure. 

“What the-” 

She tries shifting her face, but her teeth remain bluntly human, her features smooth and unmarred. 

The beast outside lets out a sound too dangerous to classify as a purr and flexes its muscles in warning before pushing itself forward into a run... towards her. Erica dives to the side, throwing herself painfully against the dust-covered floor when the creature crashes through the house and lands itself in a crouch on the stairs. 

As Erica pushes herself up, the monster turns slowly resting its gaze on her. 

Fighting is no longer an option, not with her being unable to shift, so as foolish as it may be Erica turns and run. A slightly better plan, if you asked her than standing around waiting to get mauled. 

The beast which could have easily outrun her cocks his head in what Erica can only take to mean amusement. 

Fleeing the house, Erica jumps over all the porch stairs at once and heads towards the cover of the trees. She doesn’t dare waste precious time to wonder why the beast doesn’t follow and instead focuses on pushing her feeble limbs forward. 

Trees, all identical, surround her making it impossible to know which direction to head but Erica keeps running anyway; Stubbornly ignoring the sharp stitch in her side and how her lungs scream at her to stop. 

A bright light cuts suddenly through the darkness. Erica brings up a hand to shield her eyes, her feet catch a raised root, and it almost lands her flat on her face. 

“Hang on, hang on,” A voice shielded by trees booms several yards away, “this little delinquent belongs to me.” 

She knows that voice. Carefully, and slowly Erica peers forward to see the bright lights of police cars and the surrounding uniformed officers. 

“Dad, how you are doing?” An even more familiar voice asks. 

Stiles? She has to clamp her mouth shut to avoid saying the name out loud. 

From where she is hidden, peering through the leafless trees she can see the two figures clearly. 

Relief floods her at the sight of the pale, over-enthusiastic boy. But, no matter the unexpected burst of happiness at a familiar sight, the nearby brown sheriff uniform keeps her rooted in place. 

She is in the process of catching her breath and wiping down her damp forehead with the paw of her jacket when another familiar name catches her attention. 

“-Scott? Sc-Scott’s home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow,” she can hear Stiles say, “It's just me. In the woods. Alone.” 

As if distrusting of that answer the Sheriff shines his flashlight to see past the dark woods. Erica ducks behind one of the  trees , pressing herself firmly against the rough bark. 

“Scott, you out there? Scott?” The Sheriff asks. 

The beam sways away and Erica chances peering out once more, there is a tentative beat in which Erica wonders if the other boy will reveal himself. 

“Well, young man,” Sheriff Stilinski continues, “I'm  gonna walk you back to your car. And you and I are  gonna have a conversation about something called 'invasion of privacy'.” 

There’s the sound of a yelp as, she can only presume, the Sheriff drags Stiles away. 

When the coast is clear Erica pries herself away from the tree trunk. Part of her is tempted to call out for Scott but she kept her mouth shut. Instead, she makes her way through the woods silently searching for the teenage boy. 

The sky rumbles what sounds like an ominous warning and Erica hugs her arms close to her chest, wishing that she had grabbed warmer clothes. 

The crunch of her footsteps on the ground and the hooting of night owls keep an eerie company as she makes her through the woods at a steady pace. Her brown eyes scouring every shadow. 

She hears it first. 

A hum that vibrates amongst the trees, followed by the sound of dozens of hooves against the ground in a hurried  clamor . 

A yell rings out, followed by a thud and Erica arrives to catch the sight of a red hooded figure being trampled to the ground by a herd of wild deer. 

“Scott?” She takes a couple of steps forward, stopping short of entering the stampede. “Scott!” 

The boy covers his face with his arms as his only shield against the fearful animals. 

With startling speed, the  deer's disappear as quickly as they had appeared, leaving only the sound of Scott McCall’s  labored breathing. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott says, at last, pushing himself off the ground and dusting his arms. 

Erica’s heart is still thumping erratically despite the danger having seemingly passed. 

“Are you okay?” She asks as she looks at him. 

Really, looks at him. His hair is longer than she’s used to seeing; brown floppy curls, that was long enough to rest against his forehead. 

“Y-yeah,” Scott answers with a confused frown as he  pats down his body in search of something, “Crap, my inhaler!” His eyes dart across the ground as he digs out his phone for some source of light. 

Erica swallows, her eyes falling to the disturbed ground was Scott had almost been trampled to death. Nothing about tonight was making sense. Those deer were terrified, and clearly running from something. Chances where it may just the same thing she was running from as well. 

“We need to go.” 

“Not until I find my inhaler,” Scott answered, without looking up from his search. “My mom will kill me. Those things are worth like, eighty bucks,” The end of Scott’s sentence is punctuated by a scream as he stumbles backward. 

A body, or more accurately half a body. The upper, brutally severed, half to be specific. The dead girl’s head is turned their way; her mouth and eyes wide open. 

Scott stumbles too far backs and ends up tumbling down a slope of dead leaves and twigs and hits the ground at the bottom with a soft thud. 

“Scott?” Erica calls out before carefully making her down the slope. 

A wounded, “Ow,” answers. The boy inches himself across the ground, using a fallen tree to push himself up. “You saw that, right?” He asks out of breath as he jumps over the broken trunks to face Erica, “the- she..."

“Ye-” the half-worded answer dies on her lips as she looks past the teenager, and stops still. 

With a frown, Scott also pauses, before turning slowly. 

The hunched creature leaps forward, it's supernatural eyes glowing bright against its dark fur and the encompassing trees. 

Unlike before the beast now done with games, moves impossibly fast and within seconds has Scott pinned down against the ground. The teenager tries to twist out of the giant wolf’s grasp, clawing the dirt for some sort of leverage. 

“Help?” Scott calls out to her, his hand reaching out. 

The beast twists its head curiously to look up at her. 

“I’m sorry,” Erica whispers, turning her heel and fleeing away. 

Scott cries in pain, and Erica forces her gaze to remain ahead as she pushes herself forward and ignore the gut-wrenching sounds of growls and cries. She runs, heart-pounding and chest aching. She runs past rustling trees until wood, and dirt turns to open paved roads. 

The screech of tires against wet roads and the sight of a car coming fast towards her turns her legs to lead. Erica shields her eyes from the high beam onslaught of light and a  horn blares harshly. A pair of arms pull her back as the car narrowly swerves out of the way. 

Standing and panting and wounded as the rain starts splattering around them, is Scott McCall. 

Erica is unsure of what to say when Scott lets go of her, wincing as he brings a hand to his side, against his red hoodie. 

Her eyes are drawn down by the pained action. “Did it-” she gestures to where his hand is pressed and when Scott doesn’t answer yanks his jacket up. 

There on tanned skin, dripping with crimson blood is the unmistakable bite of an Alpha.


End file.
